


I'll Be Air

by Welfycat



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Community: angst_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welfycat/pseuds/Welfycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily doesn't remember who she is and hasn't for a while now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Air

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Lost  
> Content Notes: None. PG.  
> Author Notes: Takes place early season seven. Spoilers up through 7.01.

It was a strange experience, to stare into the mirror and not recognize what she saw. Emily could remember Sergio's first experience with the mirror in the bathroom shortly after she'd adopted him. The black cat had recoiled at first and then became fascinated with the reflective movements for a short period of time. Emily had laughed, quietly so she didn't startle Sergio, and had watched him press his paws against the glass. Sergio was back with her now, in a new apartment and neighborhood, but was currently exploring the narrow space under her bed instead of standing with her by her full length mirror.

Emily moved her hand up to touch her face, watching the reflection move with her before shifting her focus to her hand itself. Her fingernails were still ragged and torn to the quick, had been for months and months, but she didn't remember biting them. She knew how easy it was for her hand to absently find its way to her mouth when she was stressed, but it was like her fingers were foreign as well. Had her pinky fingers always been that short? Had her skin always been this color? Emily couldn't remember. Her mind whispered about psychological disorders and unsubs, asking her where that tipping point was and if she'd even recognize when she was past the point of no return. She wasn't even sure where that was anymore.

She turned her attention back to the mirror and watched as her hand touched the edge of her jaw and felt along the bone. It was almost like watching a marionette: strings were being pulled and the puppet jerkily responded with no life of its own. The skin of her face was warmer than her fingers and she slid her hand back into her shoulder length hair. The strands felt unfamiliar, almost like a wig, and Emily tugged slightly just to make sure it would hurt. It didn't, not really, but they were definitely attached to her scalp.

"Emily," she said out loud. She dropped her hand and took a step closer to the mirror. Looking herself in the dark brown eyes - her dark brown eyes - she repeated herself. "Emily. You are Emily Prentiss."

Her voice, at least she remembered her own voice, was more convincing than her reflection. She continued to stare, trying to re-memorize the curve of her face and the way her hair fell where it was parted. She hadn't even meant to stop in front of the mirror that morning, she'd just passed by while getting ready for work and been startled by the appearance of someone in her home. It had only taken a moment for her heart rate to slow again as she remembered hanging the mirror, and then the realization that she didn't recognize the person in the reflection. It wasn't like she didn't use the bathroom mirror to get ready every day, but she didn't really pay attention to the image as a whole either. Apparently it had been too long, long before she'd died and disappeared into the world, since she'd really looked at herself.

She found her body, using the palms of her hands to start at her shoulders and trace down the edges of her body to her hip bones and then to her thighs, and decided that it mostly felt the same if she discounted the general sensation of numbness that followed her everywhere. The mirror was showing her a woman with a sadness around her eyes that couldn't quite be hidden and a distance that couldn't be crossed. She wondered if that's what the team saw when they looked at her. She wondered if they had recognized her when she had walked through that door - like she'd dug her way out of the ground and stumbled back into Quantico - and back into the case that had taken her away from them.

JJ and Hotch had only been surprised to see her, not surprised that she was breathing and walking and speaking. Reid and Morgan though, they'd stared like they were seeing a vision or a ghost. Maybe they had been; Emily felt like a ghostly visage more often than not, like she was haunting the team because they were her only connection to the living.

Emily tore herself away from the mirror and her thoughts and bent down to call Sergio out from under the bed. Sergio only hesitated for a moment before coming forward to sniff her fingers and letting her scratch being his ears. Sergio hadn't recognized her at first either and it had taken Garcia coaxing him out with a can of tuna before he'd even investigated Emily.

"I have to go to work," Emily said, letting Sergio wind around her ankles even if it meant there would be cat fur on her pants. She didn't promise that she'd be back, not tonight or ever; those were promises she didn't make anymore, even to her cat. They could be called out on a case and Emily had been living with the sense that death could be around any corner for the last eight months.

Emily walked past the mirror without looking back. She considered taking it down, but also wondered if she should try looking in it more often, just to see what she'd find. She wondered if she was brave enough to leave it up.


End file.
